Gone Campin'
by laughinghyena2000
Summary: A little fluffiness as Gibbs and DiNozzo go, well, camping. Special guest stars featuring Jethro  I guess spoilers to Dog Tags  and Kelly. Father/son-ness. Complete!
1. The Day

**Disclaimer: Again, sad days, cause none of the NCIS characters are mine. Wishlist?**

**A/N: Thanks thanks and a thousand more to those who read, review, favorited, etc my previous story. It warms the heart and makes one smile all silly-like. After writing A Moment Outside Autopsy I really wanted to write something marshmellowy fluffy. If the earlier story made you sad, I hope this one will make you smile. Or at least crinkle in amusement. **

**It's not quite done yet, but it will be.**

**Gone Campin'**

**by**

**laughinghyena**

The sun shone brightly through the forest canopy as birds chirped. The wind rustled the leaves of trees, and water from the creek rushed over broken branches and craggy rocks. All around the peace of wilderness prevailed. Until…

"Keep up DiNozzo," Gibbs said without turning his back. He could tell by the footsteps behind him that the younger man was slowing down.

"Ungh. This is heavy Boss," DiNozzo shifted his weight from left to right, trying to readjust the straps of his backpack once again. He stumbled, then executed a small hop and swerve to retain his balance.

"Told'ja 'pack light,'" Gibbs growled. There was no sign of actual fatigue in the younger man's voice and the terrain was flat, albeit slightly muddy and rocky. If McGee were here, Gibbs could imagine him calling DiNozzo out for 'being a girl.'

"I wasn't exactly sure what to bring. Things happen, like grizzly bears and greasy hair. Yugh. A good cop is always prepared," came the reply as DiNozzo did a quick shuffle to catch up with the waiting Gibbs.

"It's a two day camping trip DiNozzo. Not permanent relocation," Gibbs growled. They had left his house at 0700 this morning for the drive to the forest. He had two cups of coffee, which, taking the current time of day into consideration meant that he was at least another two cups under par.

"Well, it's not like I have previous camping experience to compare this to Boss," by now DiNozzo had caught up to Gibbs, matching the older man stride by stride.

Gibbs tilted his head to the left, frowned and raised his eyebrows as blue eyes met green. Green smiled.

* * *

Gibbs went through the bulging backpack once again, making sure that only the bare necessities remained in the already too heavy pack. His once over had already exposed Ernie the one eyed teddy bear craftily stowed away at the bottom of the pack. Earlier, when he told his travelling companion to only bring essentials, he had made the erroneous assumption that a marine's definition of 'essential' overlapped with a six year old's definition.

"Are you sure you're up for this LJ?" Shannon asked, smiling as her husband pulled out a pink plastic teapot from the pack.

"It's just a two day trip, Shan. We'll be fine," Gibbs replied, wondering silently just what had filtered through to his daughter when he described the concept of camping.

"She's a girl."

"I know that."

"It's camping."

"I believe in gender equality."

Gibbs finally zipped up the pack, turning around when he heard his dear, darling, loving wife snort. In front of them stood Kelly, grinning from ear to ear, peanut butter and jelly sandwich in her hands, and a shiny plastic tiara on her head.

"We'll be fine."

* * *

They had been walking for the past 30 minutes, navigating through slight slopes and tight paths. It was almost noon and both men were heavily perspiring despite the early spring breeze. The German Sheppard trotted beside them, tongue lolling out the side of its mouth.

"How'd you wind up with the dog?" Gibbs always found himself unable to refer to it by name.

"Oh Jethro?" DiNozzo grinned, reaching down to ruffle the top of the dog's head, "You mean this good boy. Who's a goooood boy? Jethroooo? Jethro's a good boy. Yeouch." DiNozzo grimaced as he rubbed the back of his head.

"Keep that up…" the unspoken threat lingered in the air as the peace of the wilderness fluttered away once again.

"Thanks Boss, think you killed a bug. The dog? Tiny Tim told me about this hot date he had this weekend, so I said I'd take Jethro off his hands. I mean, he wouldn't want to scare away his first date in centuries by introducing her to this growling, menacing beast called… I think I'll stop while I'm behind." He cupped the back of his head just in case.

Blue eyes turned to meet green. Blue eyes turned away with a slight shake of the head.

"Ok fine. McGeek does actually have a date, but I mean, camping. Man's best friend, man's manliest activity. Makes sense doesn't it?" He reached down absent mindedly, feeling for the warm coat of the German Sheppard.

Gibbs tilted his head to the left, raising his eyebrows as blue eyes met green. Blue smiled.

* * *

After what might have been a small slice of eternity, they finally reached the campsite. It was a slightly hidden clearing past a stand of trees, where someone at sometime had collected enough rocks to make a fire pit and had positioned a large tree trunk as a makeshift bench. The site was conveniently just above the creek; a small tumble down a muddy bank and one would have access to water.

"Woah," his daughter exclaimed, clutching Ernie the one eyed bear close to her chest. After some discussion, father and daughter agreed that Ernie was indeed, without a doubt, an 'essential.'

"Daddy, daddy, look!" She pointed to the large, six feet in diameter rock by the creek. "Can we climb it?"

Gibbs nodded, but stated, "Tent first," as he pulled the tarp and two lengths of rope out of the pack. Immediately, the pack seemed to halve in size. Gibbs removed his hunting knife from his pocket as he began to cut one of the ropes into equal lengths.

"C'mere Kells," he beckoned to his daughter. He watched as she skipped towards him, dimples on her cheeks, loose strands of hair plastered to her sweaty face.

"I'm gonna help! And Ernie too!" She pushed the scruffy teddy bear into his face, and for a moment he caught a whiff of Johnson's and Johnson's No Tears shampoo, of sour chocolate milk, of dirt and freshly mowed grass.

Gently he took each of her hands into his as he showed her how to tie the ropes to the tarp. Fold it in half, through the hole, take the ends, poke the eyes. It took a few tries before Kelly's clumsy fingers mastered the knot. By then both father and daughter were on the ground laughing, dirt clinging to the back side of their pants. Beloved Ernie was momentarily set to the side, observing. The pair's one-eyed sentry.

* * *

Setting up the tent turned out more involved than expected. Gibbs quickly realized that DiNozzo's lack of camping experience meant the younger man would spend at least five minutes staring bewilderedly at the clump of metal rods, too stubborn to ask for help. He would then proceed to spend another five minutes slotting the rods into whatever seemed to fit, only to disassemble again when the resulting shape was more train wreck than tent frame.

Ten minutes into DiNozzo's efforts, Jethro the Dog who had frenziedly sniffed and nosed every inch of the clearing the moment they arrived, found the act of setting up a tent more worthy of his personal involvement. It decided the best form of aid was to bark and nibble at the ends of the metal rods. When a tent did not materialize after its efforts, Jethro the Dog nosed the canvas, sniffed DiNozzo's boots, stuck its head between his legs and barked again.

Gibbs sat on the ground, hand holding the handle of a hot tin cup, his back braced against the large tree trunk. He had already unpacked most of the supplies, collected fresh drinking water, and boiled some for the overdue coffee. His free hand held a portable camcorder, its lens fixed on the battle between man, tent, and dog. He watched as DiNozzo tried to simultaneously push the dog away, unfold the canvas, and pick up the fallen metal rods. Silently, Gibbs thanked Abby and McGee for convincing him that the time spent mastering the tiny doo-hickey would be well worth the results.

"I distinctly remember you being the strong, silent… stoic type Jethro," DiNozzo said, letting out a loud sigh as Jethro the Dog jumped to lick his face.

Gibbs stowed the camcorder and stood up slowly, feeling the age of his joints as he ambled towards his senior field agent. He used his pointer finger to lightly tap the right of DiNozzo's cheek and then pointed to the metal pile. He picked up a rod, found its partner, slotted them together and handed DiNozzo another pair of partner rods.

"Maybe Abby should have named him Anthony instead," he said, smiling as DiNozzo scrunched his cheeks and frowned.

* * *

Fishing did not start off as he expected. What Gibbs considered a non-event, his daughter declared utterly eww and yucky. She stood with her hands on her waist, scrunched up her face and stuck out her tongue. The bait bucket filled with squirming worms did not impress her, nor did Gibbs' demonstration of hooking a live worm. She stood a fair distance away, bending at the waist to peer cautiously into the bucket. She held the strands of her long brown hair back behind her ears, afraid they might get entangled with the worms.

"Daddy, those are worms," she pointed and stated with the tone of someone observing, 'Sir, your briefs are on your head.'

"I know kiddo. They're bait. See," Gibbs said, picking one out of the bucket, "They don't bite."

"I know they don't bite. But it doesn't mean they aren't gross," she said, and fixed her father with a commendable impression of the look he saved only for criminals in the interrogation room.

* * *

"DiNozzo, just. Pick. One. Up."

Gibbs had managed to stay silent as DiNozzo lightly tapped the bucket of worms and then jumped back. But when the younger man began to go on about his delicate disposition, something about hand creams, dirt, allergies, Gibbs could no longer hold back. He picked up the bucket and shoved it right in front of DiNozzo's face, watching bemusedly as DiNozzo pulled back his head and stuck out the tip of his tongue. Behind them, Jethro the Dog who was resting head on paws let out a loud whine.

Gibbs again fought the urge to issue a head slap when DiNozzo began to reach into the bucket, only to pull back, then reach in again. Finally, just moments before the itch in Gibbs' hand became uncontrollable, DiNozzo pinched a worm between his thumb and pointer, and excitedly yelled, "Yea-haah."

He watched as DiNozzo's eyes widened, as his mouth curved upwards in a bright smile. He watched as DiNozzo eyed the squirming worm between his fingers and discovered the fuel for the muddy exploits of children all around the world. His senior field agent was actually 39 going on 10.

Jethro the Dog, tired of the momentary inaction and equally fascinated by the worm, took aim and leapt. Thus ended DiNozzo's first live worm holding.

* * *

Thanks for reading, hope you've had some fun so far. Constructive reviews and warm fuzzies please and thank you?

Conclusion comes soon in the next chapter…


	2. The Night

**Disclaimer: NCIS characters are not mine. Neither is Harry McClintock's song.**

As he sat drinking his coffee that morning, he had imagined ending the night by the fire pit, a fish or two cooking slowly over the hot flames. He had imagined showing his daughter the art of removing the fine fish bones, of savoring the crispy skin of a day's catch. Of course, Shannon had caught him in, her words, 'his moment of delusion' and lightly rapped him on the head. She then placed a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter in front of him and simply stated, 'Pack that.'

Despite Shannon's reservations, he still held on with lingering hope to his romantic ideal. Kelly, despite her initial reservations, quickly took to fishing. She alternated between short intervals of quiet awe, holding on tightly to her father's fishing pole, and long bursts of activity, clapping and skipping when a fish seemed to bite. She watched, her hands clinging to the sleeve of his t-shirt, as he slowly reeled in the fish. When he held up the taut line, fish hooked at the end, she reached out, smiling, fingers grazing the scales of the wriggling fish. He found himself imagining a fire, father and daughter sitting side-by-side sharing a plate full of slightly charred fish.

Of course, his moment of delusion came to a screeching end when Kelly started playing with the fishes. She poked them with twigs, and oohed as they swam over one another in the too small bucket. She named the five catch Kimberly, Trini, Jason, Zack, and Billy. The moment she introduced Ernie to her new friends, he knew without a doubt that dinner would be peanut butter sandwiches.

Later that night, after having sated their hunger, father and daughter made their way towards the large rock by the creek. Their short journey was temporarily interrupted when Kelly slipped and scrapped her knee on a sharp rock. There were tears, a small moment of screaming, and a long detour back to the campsite for the first aid kit and hot chocolate.

Even though his fingers smelled of disinfectant, and even though peanut butter clung stubbornly to the roof of his mouth and in the crevices of his teeth, he smiled. They were finally on the top of the rock. Kelly sat between his legs, unconsciously picking at the band-aid as she leaned back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head, losing himself in the white noise of water against rock. Even though things never quite worked out the way he wanted, they always ended well.

"Daddy look," Kelly pointed at the orange full moon, "It's so round. My friend Cindy told me this story about this Chinese princess and she wanted to save the world from the evil empress who had a magic potion that made her live forever and ever and the princess drank it 'stead and floated up to the sky, 'cept she didn't really want to float so she grabbed a rabbit, which is silly cause rabbits are light and then she grabbed the tree and the tree flew too. And now she's on the moon!"

His mind was still tripping over the connections between empress, potion, and rabbit when Kelly asked, "Do you think she's waving?"

She paused, taking a moment to wave up at the moon before continuing, "If I were on the moon I'd wave. But I wouldn't bring a rabbit, I'd so bring a dog."

He gave up trying to tie up the loose ends of the story and gave in to his daughter's one-sided conversation.

"Daddy, one day I'm gonna go to the moon. I'll wave down at you and you'll wave back right?"

"Mmmhmm." Sometimes it was better to just listen.

"Daddy?"

"Mmmhmm?"

Kelly tilted her head backwards, stretched her neck, until her eyes met her father's. She raised her arms and tried to wrap it around his neck.

"I think I love camping."

* * *

It was late in the afternoon and the sun was hiding behind the clouds. The birds chirped lethargically and considered clocking out soon. Two men sat by a creek side and all was silent in the land, almost.

"Fishing is time for _quiet _introspection."

Gibbs wore his baseball cap forwards, eyes focused on a spot in the water. DiNozzo wore his baseball cap backwards, sat atop a reasonably flat rock, and whistled. The fishing pole rested loosely between his hands. He ignored Gibbs' whispered threat and drummed his fingers on the handle of the pole. When whistling was not enough, he began singing under his breath, lightly tapping his foot to the slow beat. _One evening as the sun went down and the jungle fires were burning. _He dipped his head slightly to the left, slightly to the right, gently bobbing the fishing pole in the process. _Down the track came a hobo hiking, and he said, "Boys I'm not turning_." Gibbs watched, trying to decide if the younger man was imitating some version of a fisherman, or if the younger man was actually fishing. _I'm headed for a land that's far away besides the crystal fountains._ Jethro the Dog raised his head from its resting position, perked its ears, and seemed to ask, 'what's this?' _So come with me, we'll go and see the big rock candy mountains._

"DiNozzo." The younger man turned at the soft, but purposeful, mention of his name, corners of his eyes creasing into a bright smile. He continued singing.

At that moment, Gibbs saw the tip of DiNozzo's fishing pole bend from a new source of tension.

"Boss!" DiNozzo stood up, clutching the fishing pole tighter. He turned towards Gibbs and gave him a look part fear, part confusion, all excitement.

"Shh… DiNozzo," Gibbs placed his own pole down and walked towards his agent. He gently tapped the other man's shoulder, "Just reel it in slow. Like I showed you." Gibbs rested his other hand on the fishing pole so that DiNozzo would not rush the process.

"Boss, this is _the_ Big Fish. Ed Bloom had it wrong, this is it Boss. The Big Fish," DiNozzo held up the catch by the end of the line.

Gibbs had seen bigger, much bigger. Gibbs laughed, then smiled, as blue eyes met green.

"Good job, DiNozzo."

Gibbs saw DiNozzo's eyes glance from the fish, to the creek, to the bucket filled with water, and back to the fish again. Gibbs thought he smelled peanut butter.

"Hey Boss, you'll show me how to gut this thing right?" DiNozzo shook the line. "Get rid of all the blood and gore and scales. Scales like a lih-zard. Ssss…" He looked at the fish, at the creek, at the bucket, "Replace it with delicious goodness?"

As it turned out, DiNozzo's Big Fish was the only fish they caught that day. They cleaned the fish, grilled it over the fire, and rustled up a pot of chili. The whole time, Jethro the Dog and its nose weaved around them with uncomfortable proximity. They hoped McGee would not notice the singed ends of his dog's whiskers.

The duo ate their meal in relative silence, exchanging a word here and there. Gibbs did his best to withhold commenting on DiNozzo's method of fish consumption. To Gibbs, pilling large amounts of chili over freshly cooked fish ruined the delicate sweetness of the meat. DiNozzo, for his part, bit back a comment or two when he observed Gibbs putting four heaping spoonfuls of instant coffee into his small tin mug. They scraped their plates for the last remnants of food and allowed Jethro the Dog to finish the rest of the cleaning process.

"Hey you think you can make it up that boulder?" DiNozzo asked as he tilted his head in the direction of a large rock by the creek and double knotted the trash bag in his hands. "I mean, I know your knees are a little, shall we say, rusty. Can you even see the boulder? Do you need your glasses Boss?"

Someone grunted. It was not Jethro the Dog.

"Could probably beat you to it," a corner of Gibbs mouth curved upwards, blue eyes stared into green. Green blinked. Gibbs rolled his eyes and shook his head as DiNozzo dropped the trash bag and took off in a sprint, Jethro the Dog barking and running to keep up. Gibbs picked up his flask and two cups and walked towards the rock at a respectable pace.

"Beat you!" DiNozzo said, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and hunched his body into a boxer's stance. He did a quick air jab. "Beat. Ch-ya."

They sat on top of the large rock, knees partially drawn towards their chests, taking small sips of bourbon from their cups. DiNozzo had his free hand buried in Jethro the Dog's coat, while Gibbs glanced upwards at the full moon. He heard DiNozzo mumble about werewolves and made a reference to some Jack Nick-something movie. He wondered if DiNozzo had come across the story of the empress and her potion. He spared one lingering look at the orange moon, nodding his head slightly, raising his cup slightly.

"Hey Boss," DiNozzo said, rolling the cup back and forth between his palms. "I just wanted to say thanks, I mean, I know you like to go all solo on camping trips. And I'm no McScout…"

"Your father never take you camping much," Gibbs interrupted. It could have been a statement. It could have been a question.

"Senior? No. Noo. The man was always more rooftop grill than fire pit char."

"His loss."

They tapped their cups together, falling once again into silence.

"I was going to get her a puppy," Gibbs said, his words so soft, so light, the night breeze almost carried them away. DiNozzo turned to look at his boss, taking in Gibbs' loose hold on the cup handle, the relaxed arms resting on knees.

"What kind?" DiNozzo took a cautious sip from his cup.

Gibbs blinked, "Golden retriever. Maybe. Shannon wanted something smaller." He rubbed his hands over his face.

"Hope it wasn't a Chihuahua. Not that I have anything against those dogs. Dogs are dogs. But those dogs are tiny. My neighbor had one once, almost stepped on it. Big hands, big feet, tiny dog. Bad news." DiNozzo kept his gaze fixed on the dancing slivers of moonlight reflected on the creek.

Gibbs huffed softly. It might have been a chuckle.

An owl hooted. Crickets chirped. A sleeping dog whined and two men drank bourbon from small tin cups.

"Hey Boss… what were you going to do with that camcorder?"

"Wouldn't you like to know DiNozzo."

**The End**

**A/N: Thanks for reading! This was kind of a writing exercise for me to see what I could come up with when my muse was sluggish. I know the plot's a little… non existent… but let me know what you think of the final product. Enjoyment? Frustration? Etc etc. Tonks!**


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